


Facing the Past, Facing the Future

by DaynaWayna



Category: CHiPs
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Mental Breakdown, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaynaWayna/pseuds/DaynaWayna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon, Ponch, Bruce and Steve endure a terrifying ordeal and are hiding the truth about what really happened to protect one of their own. Is keeping their secret from the counselors who can help them the right course, or would telling the truth be their undoing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story that I wrote for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), November of 2010. Some of the motto's for NaNoWriMo are "Write dangerously"and also "Write with abandon." One of the "rules" is to just let the story come and write whatever comes to your mind. AND NO EDITING/DELETING! Quantity is the goal, quality and edits are for December and beyond. And for this story, I wrote with Dangerous Abandon. Quelling the Edit Monster was a challenge though.
> 
> I tell you this because this story appeared to be an exercise in being descriptive, keeping in ideas that I thought were odd/bizarre/wouldn't work and make them work, and really stretching myself. It's also very tragic for one of my favorite CHP officers specifically, but the four in general. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The pain was intense. Raw, physical pain from memories buried deep inside. Memories that were shoving their way to the surface, making him feel like his heart was going to explode. The pain in his side didn't help, either. _That effing bastard had it coming to him, God bless it!_

Funny how things stick with you. Odd things, like snippets of memories from childhood. You never took the Lord's Name in vain. Ever. And when momma heard him use it when he was ten years old, and use it while trying to corral a young colt, she took it out on his hide. Couldn't sit down for twenty-four hours. Not that it made any difference- she didn't let him sit down. There was too much work to do to cleanse his soul. And that's when Hank told him his secret.

"The good Lord above loves to bless, Jonny-boy. I know it sounds funny at first, but if you change 'damn' to 'bless', you can still be as mad as nest of hornets and shout yerself hoarse with 'God bless it! God bless this stupid obnoxious animal to high heaven!"

He had giggled when Hank started yelling 'Godbless it!", and ended up leaning on the railing of the sheep pen, tears rolling down his face. It was so funny and absurd that it actually worked. It didn't mean momma didn't still give him a dirty look when he used it, but she never beat him for saying it, either.

The car horn snapped him out of his revere and he looked up in time to see the light glowing red against the night sky, and approaching way too fast. He slammed on the breaks, locking them and fishtailed to the right. He gripped the wheel hard and kept the truck under control and stopped with his front wheels over the top line of the crosswalk.

As he waited, another wave of pain and terror took hold of him and he accelerated the moment the light turned green, trying to escape the darkness of this night and the darkness inside him. He had been driving aimlessly for over an hour and yet somehow he knew where he was going. He knew the counselor would listen and that she had this mysterious way of making the pain go away.

-0-

KC Roberts was sitting in her living room laughing at her guest. Danny was always so serious at work, but get him outside of his office and watch out world, because crazy was on the loose! He had just finished reciting a scene from The Princess Bride, replete with voices and actions and KC wasn't sure she could take any more of his antics.

"Oh Danny, you should have been a comic, not a psychologist. You missed your calling for sure."

"Inconceivable," he waved his hand at her as a fresh wave of giggles took hold of her. "I like helping people figure out what makes them tick. And I  _love_  trying to get inside the minds of crazy people. Can't think of anything else I'd rather do."

As she stood up, KC grabbed the blue plastic dessert plates and cups off the coffee table and walked into the kitchen to throw them away. "Want some more coffee?"

"I'd love some, lady." The pounding on the front door startled both of them and KC dropped the cup she was holding.

"Who could that be? It's nearly eleven thirty."

Danny stood and met her at the door as she spoke into the crack. "Who is it?"

They could hear ragged breathing on the other side of the door and it was a moment before they heard the quietly desperate reply.

"Jon. KC please…"

As she opened the front door, Jon felt a tidal wave of emotion hit him causing his heart and chest to constrict tightly, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He pitched forward and KC was barely able to catch him before he collided into her. Danny was behind her instantly, supporting her while reaching around her to help guide Jon to the ground.

"Oh my God, Jon! Honey, it's okay. Jon look at me. Jon?  **Jon**. Danny, go grab all my washcloths and-"

"I know the drill," he said as he got up to get what they needed.

KC held Jon's face in her hands, coaxing him to breathe more normally. He was trembling with the effort to control himself, and KC's heart ached for him. She could feel his fear as a tangible thing in the room. He was sweating and shaking and trying desperately not to cry, which drove KC insane. Her biggest pet peeve and her greatest counseling point was that tears are a person's greatest strength, not a weakness.

She gently brushed his hair off his forehead and said soothingly, "Jon, let it go. You're safe here. Nothing can harm you. I won't let it. Please Jon…"

He took a shuddering breath as she drew him into her arms and he felt the wave crash down upon him again in its relentless pursuit to destroy him. The tears came and he clutched at the petite brunette like a life preserver.

Jon's panic was overwhelming and KC called out to her partner for help. Danny was beside them in an instant, kneeling beside Jon and putting his left arm around his back and squeezing his right in between the officer and KC.

"Jon. Buddy, c'mon. It's all good, Jon."

Danny very carefully pulled Jon back toward him so KC wasn't crushed beneath the man's terror. The two of them knew they were in for a long night and prayed that their friend would finally face his demons.

"Jon, listen to me," KC cooed softly. "You're not going to drown. I won't let you, I promise. I will always keep your head above water, okay? Do you hear me, Jon? I won't let you drown."

Danny gave her a look that said, 'Where did  _that_  come from,' and she just shrugged.

KC slowly sat back on her knees, scrutinizing the distraught man before her while Danny offered his silent support. The past eight days had been horrific for all branches of law enforcement in Los Angeles with the kidnapping of LAPD officer Mike Daniels and his subsequent rescue. His fellow officers as well as friends in the CHP and LA County Sheriffs had received pictures of him tied up and beaten along with notes taunting officers and officials alike to find him 'before it was too late.'

Officers Baker, Poncherello, Nelson and McLeish had received the photos of their friend and three days later were a part of the mass rescue effort. The four CHP officers had gone into the warehouse and up to the second level as part of one of the diversionary teams, but had gotten ambushed by traps. Daniels was rescued by the SWAT team and all the rescue teams made it out in once piece, but the experience had rattled every officer and deputy to the core. The CHP gave their four officers involved a two week leave with pay and each one had sat with either Counselor KC or Dr. Danny daily for the past four days to try and cope with the horrifying ordeal.

But there was something they were holding back from that day, something all four of them shared but would not tell the doctor or the counselor. Try as they might, KC and Danny could not get to the root of it, but now things had changed.

KC could see that there was a war raging inside Jon and it was tearing him apart. She knew he was a vet from the war in 'Nam, and she wondered if it was those memories that he was suffering now. She placed her right hand on his chest and spoke his name so he would look at her.

"Jon…"

If the eyes are the window to someone's soul then Jon's crystal blue eyes were huge bay windows showing KC the vast vista of pain, agony and horror. She forced her own reactions into a tiny box and focused on being strong, detached and disconnected so she could fulfill her promise and help Officer Baker heal. She had to put their friendship aside and be his counselor first or he would be lost. She could feel the knot of emotion that had formed in his chest and knew what was coming. This was more than simple tears could purge, and she knew he could feel it coming, too.

"Get him up, Dan," she said in a quite yet urgent tone.

"Bathroom?"

She smiled grimly, knowing that she had to let Danny deal with this part of things. There were times when she really hated that she didn't have the word 'doctor' attached to her name, but then she always thought a moment later that her talents would be wasted if she was a 'doctor' of psychology. She was freer to do her own thing as a counselor, and Dan had always told her he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Don't… move me…"

It was the first thing Jon had said since KC opened the door and it startled Danny as much as her. She took his hand in hers and looked him in the eyes.

"Jon, listen to me. Your body is trying to cope with too many things at once, and it needs to release the pressure or you'll injure yourself. The best way of course is crying when you need to but you've blocked that route for too long and now there's too much emotion and pressure built up. You're going to get sick and I promise it's going to help."

Danny looked surprised. "Another Troi moment I guess?" He smiled when she pulled a face at him, but trusted his counselor. She wasn't a psychic by any means, but she had this uncanny ability to 'see' inside someone just like the empathic Counselor Troi from Star Trek: The Next Generation, hence the nickname. He envied her ability but never questioned her and trusted her completely.

"No, please…"

The fear in his voice melted some of her resolve and she tenderly cupped his face in her hand but it was quickly removed by a firm hand. "Counselor Roberts, please help me get Officer Baker up and moving to the bathroom before you have an unwanted mess on your carpet."

"Yes, Dr. Altman," she replied automatically as she helped pull Jon to his feet.

Dan draped Jon's arm around his shoulder and supported the slightly taller man's weight as he guided him to the bathroom.

"You go finish getting your stuff ready while I take care of-"

Jon suddenly stood upright and dashed for the bathroom, followed closely by Danny. The noises that followed told KC that she was right about the intense battle raging inside her friend and she felt comfort in that fact. She wasn't sure why she knew that she was right, but she'd learned to trust her instincts long ago, and they were rarely wrong.

Listening to someone getting sick isn't high on anyone's list of favorite things, but Dr. Altman took it in stride. It was his mission to help people heal from the inside out, which is why he'd started his career as a chiropractor. And as much as he liked the work, he always found himself counseling patients with other issues besides their health, and so he went back to school and became a psychologist, focusing on the civil services with a high interest in law enforcement. His approach was to treat them very much like soldiers who had fought in a war, and he had a high success rate in helping his patients cope with their issues.

He squatted just inside the bathroom door, softly speaking to the officer to reassure him of his presence. Like KC, his assessment of the officers involved in the rescue of Daniels was that something had gone horribly wrong and none were willing to talk about it. The men all recounted the events leading up to the rescue, but each one hesitated as they described the explosion and seemed to gloss over details. They were covering something up, he could feel it. And with a little bit of luck, he and KC just might start getting some much needed answers tonight.

Danny placed his hand on Jon's upper back as the retching subsided. He reached up onto the sink and grabbed the washcloth KC had brought in a few minutes prior and handed it to Jon who nodded his thanks and wiped his face. When he tried to sit back upright, Jon let out a hiss of pain and grabbed his right side.

The motion caused him to see stars and the blood pounding in his ears made it difficult to hear what Dr. Altman was saying to him, but he could feel a very gentle touch slide his hand away from his ribs. It wasn't hard to find the spot and the next thing Jon knew Danny was unbuttoning his shirt to have a closer look. The ugly bruise showed itself through the thin white undershirt and Dr. Altman gingerly lifted it to see the damage, letting out a low whistle.

"Somebody certainly made an impression on you," he said and turned his head toward the door and called out to KC to bring an ice pack.

Jon's breathing had slowed but was not quite normal yet, and when Dr. Altman pressed his side Jon started to hyperventilate again. He started to struggle against the doctor and Dan tried to calm him down.

"Jon, its Dr. Altman. Don't fight me, Jon. Let me look at your side. Officer Baker I need your cooperation."

Danny's voice got sterner and more commanding with each sentence, but Jon couldn't comply. Images of smoke and fire, men crawling away from the blast site, dead marines, injured officers and debris falling all around him filled his vision and panic took hold once more. He started to retch again and this time was more violent than the first. The waves came so hard and fast that he could barely breathe.

KC had just finished making her 'special drink for trying times' and had the ice pack in hand when she heard Danny try to calm Jon down and then the distinctive gagging sound of Jon getting sick, but this time it sounded worse. And then Dan shouted to her.

"Kace, I need you!"

She reached into the freezer for several wet washcloths and raced to the bathroom. She always found that the cold helped calm people down, sometimes startling them out of tears or anger with their icy coolness. She prayed the shock would be enough to help Jon.

Tossing a cloth to Danny as she entered the bathroom, she quickly positioned herself on the other side of Jon between the toilet and bathtub. Jon's arms were locked straight and he was gripping the rim of the commode so hard his hands were white. He was throwing up so violently that he couldn't catch his breath.

Danny placed the frozen cloth in the middle of Jon's back and pressed firmly while at the same time KC took her two and placed one on the side of his face and the other on the back of his neck.

There was a moment of extreme shock for Jon, and then he reacted to the icy points on his body with a reflexive gasp, breaking the convulsive cycle. He drew in great gulps of air and suddenly released his hold on the toilet. KC scooted forward to support him and spoke very softly as she constantly moved the cold cloths across Jon's face and upper chest as his body was wracked with deep, grieving sobs.

Images raced through his mind in confusing disarray- people from his past mixing with the present, no one where they should be. Memories he'd long buried surfacing violently. He started whispering, broken phrases or single words and Dr. Altman got up and made the hand motions of writing and KC nodded. He was back very quickly, sat on the floor and started writing. The counselor encouraged Jon to keep talking and would repeat things so Dan could write them down.

Jon stopped speaking after about three minutes and just allowed himself to be comforted. Dan looked at some of what he'd written down, trying to see any kind of pattern in the distraught man's words.

_Murder. I killed them. Save Mitch. Bombs… bombs killing us all. I did what I had to, had to protect them. So much blood… oh God so much blood. Bruce is down… where is Ponch? So much smoke. I can't see. Kill the enemy to protect Mitch… Bruce… gotta stay alive. Can't hurt Steve…enemy soldiers coming! Ponch, Steve… I need…Oh God help me please!_

KC looked up at Danny as she held Jon and rocked back and forth, and saw in his eyes the same pain she felt for their patient and friend. He held up the notepad and shrugged his shoulders and the counselor pouted. Nothing Jon said was making any sense, but they needed this information if they were going to help him.

She shifted her legs to a more comfortable position and bumped the ice pack, causing it to slide toward Dan. He picked it up and pointed to his side, mouthing 'ow,' and the pointed to Jon. With KC's help he carefully placed the ice pack on Jon's tender ribs and wrapped it with an ace bandage he'd found under the sink.

"There, that should help some," Dan said when they were finished. KC started to hum an old lullabye her grandma used to sing to her and the officer started to relax.

Jon could hear a soft, feminine voice humming in his ear and he tried to focus on it like a beacon of safety in storm ravaged waters. His mind grasped at the simple melodies as he tried to fight the losing battle for control. He was not even crying now, tears long since dried up, but still sobbing and moaning with the intensity of the pain.

Dr. Altman had never witnessed KC do this and he wasn't going to miss his chance. He started jotting down song titles on a separate page from his patient notes as he was able to pick them out, sometimes simply writing the name of the artist. He smiled at the eclectic mix of Barry Manilow, Styx, The Rolling Stones and various lullabies that she used to try and sooth their charge, and hoped to discuss them with her later. And by discuss he decidedly meant tease with love, of course.

The music was a soothing river for Jon to float on, but suddenly he was in the middle of class four rapids as one last cruel sortie attacked with abandon. KC jumped when Jon suddenly sat up and cried out.

"No, no!"

Every memory of every man lost in Jon's unit exploded into his consciousness. The demon memories were determined to win this war and bombarded him again and again with every horrifying image they could. And not just from the war either. Multi-vehicle accidents, dead motorists trapped in mangled pieces of twisted metal that had once been a car or van, children, innocent victims of the cruelty of life all converged in a final attempt to break his will.

The extremity-numbing buzz and tingling of hyperventilation took over as his body's last, desperate defense and he found there were still tears left after all. Jon could hear KC talking to him but she was simply a blur through the tears and nothing was making sense any longer. Words were just noise.

"I've got him, Kace." Danny said and as he pulled Jon toward him. "Go get that concoction of yours."

KC scrambled up and darted out of the bathroom. She came back two minutes later with three more frozen cloths and a small glass of warmed milk and placed it on the bathroom sink. Jon was leaning against the doctor, eyes closed and he appeared calmer.

"Are you okay Dan," she asked her friend as he slid his feet to the side so he was sitting on the floor and not on his legs. She knew his knee had to be killing him but he wouldn't give in, not in a crisis. Which this certainly was.

"Yeah," he said as the feeling slowly returned to his calves and feet. "His breathing is almost back to normal."

The counselor sighed, eyes full of grief for her friend.

KC put the chilled washcloth across Jon's forehead and spoke his name in a soft whisper. He stirred and his eyes fluttered open, trying to focus on his surroundings. Someone was holding- no, supporting him and that lovely soft voice was calling to him again. He picked his head up off Danny's shoulder and looked into the deeply concerned golden brown eyes of Counselor Roberts. He blinked once and was assaulted again by the raw, bitter emotions and memories of those who died, those he'd killed, and started to shake.

This time it was a strong male voice behind him telling him to breathe. He even felt the man's hand under his chin, holding his head up a little as if to keep it above water.  _I won't let you drown._ She promised him before, and someone was helping him. Jon gulped the air and tried to keep the shaking under control, and this time it seemed to work. He felt KC take his hand and place a glass in it, though she still held on to his hand and the glass.

"Jon, I need you to drink this."

The warmth seeped into his hand and he shook his head. "No coffee..."

"Don't tell me no, hon, and it's not coffee. Take a sip, okay? Its milk and honey and some cinnamon… it's really good, look."

He focused his tear-worn eyes on her round face as she took the glass from him and drank. He could smell the spices- nutmeg and cinnamon and something slightly licorice like- and the scent was comforting. She put the glass in his hands again and took her own and wrapped them around his, guiding them to his lips. Jon took a tentative sip and discovered the sweet drink also had a bit of brandy in it and he started to drink it quickly.

KC and Danny smiled, knowing that that would be his reaction. The counselor coaxed the glass from Jon's hands and felt him relax just a little.

"Go easy Jon, we don't want you to get sick again."

"More. I'm so thirsty."

"In just a few minutes, Jon," Danny replied. "Give your body a chance to cope."

Jon could feel the warm liquid traveling down into his stomach, and it was the first good feeling he'd had in days. Somehow he had managed to barricade himself in a tower, surrounded by the enemy on all sides, but his allies were beside him now and for the moment he was safe. But he could feel the fiery arrows hitting the walls of his tower and knew that they would have to face the enemy again, and soon. But this time he knew he wouldn't be alone because they promised to be by his side, and he'd learned over the years that Roberts and Altman never broke a promise.

It was difficult to formulate a game plan without Jon knowing exactly what was going on, but with a series of gestures and looks KC managed to convey her intentions to Danny. He didn't seem too sure about it, but the line between professionalism and friendship had already been so blurred that they really had nothing left to lose. They sat in comfortable silence as the last few waves of emotion washed over Jon, his resistance utterly spent. It was nearly twelve forty-five in the morning and Jon was finally starting to fall asleep leaning against Danny as KC held his hand.

"Go now, before I change my mind," Danny said quietly.

KC stood up and ran her hand thru his hair. "Daniel Altman, you're the best. Is your place unlocked?"

"Do I ever lock my door when I come over here?"

They had decided that Jon would at her house and not Dan's because he needed to feel safe and he'd come to her, not him. She smiled at Danny and left to get a change of clothes for the two men from his apartment, three doors down from hers. The crisp November air was refreshing and helped KC clear her head. The events of the past hour plus had completely unnerved her but she stayed focused and strong because Jon needed her to be. Dan had been his calm, cool self which helped her stay strong, but as she approached his apartment KC's own emotions came to the surface.

She walked inside his place and sat down on the worn brown and beige couch, grabbing the matching throw pillow and hugged it to her chest.

"Merrrl-ow?"

"Oh Jazzie…" KC scooped up the tortoiseshell and cried into her fur. Jazzie took this human display in stride and simply purred. After a few minutes KC composed herself and put the cat beside her.

"Thank you for comforting me," she said as the cat rubbed her face on KC's arm. "And now, to find your daddy's clean clothes!"

Dan wasn't the tidiest housekeeper, but he had told her exactly where his workout clothes were and she grabbed two pairs of sweatpants and a couple of tee shirts from the 'clean clothes pile.' She went back into the front room and heard Jazzie calling to her from the kitchen.

"I can't believe it," she giggled and walked over to the fridge. "Your daddy wasn't kidding when he said you would want some cheese, was he?"

Jasmine's mewing went an octave higher, making the adult cat sound like a tiny kitten and she wove herself around KC's legs before pawing at the refrigerator door. KC just shook her head as she opened the fridge and found a slice of American cheese. She folded it in half and tore it into pieces. After closing the door she saw that Jasmine had gone over to her food bowl and was waiting patiently, green eyes watching her every move.

"Can't I just give you the cheese and be done with it?"

The cat just blinked at her, staring at her hand, and KC sighed. "Okay okay. So, are you a good girl?"

Jasmine meowed in response and was rewarded with a piece of cheese.

"Are you a pretty kitty? Do you like this game?"

The cat replied a bit louder and with slightly different vocalizations each time, and now her tail was flipping back and forth and she was picking up one paw at a time in anticipation of the rest of her treat. KC knew there was no way around her colleague's twisted sense of humor and she resigned herself to the last question.

"Okay kitty. I really hate your daddy for this, but are you a cheese-whore?"

It was the loudest meow KC had ever heard the cat make, and coupled with the begging position she was in, reaching up for the precious cheese, it had to be the funniest thing she'd seen in a long time. She dropped the rest of the cheese into Jasmine's food bowl with a giggle, grabbed the clothes and then headed back to her place.

A few minutes later, while Danny helped Jon change and put him to bed, KC went back over to his house to make a phone call. It would be easier this way and she could talk freely.

She took the rolodex card out of her pocket and dialed the number, praying to God that He gave her the right words to say.

"Hello? Jon? Is that you?"

Well, at least her guess was right. Now for the fun part.

"No, Frank. It's KC."

"KC?" She couldn't blame him for being confused and smiled. "Yes Frank. Counselor KC Roberts."

There was a three second pause on the other end before the officer responded.

"Where is Jon? Is he okay? Is he hurt?"

_So they weren't necessarily together tonight. Shoot. New line of questioning._

"Why would he be hurt, Frank?"

"Damnit KC, don't play your effing psychological games with me! Where the hell is my partner?"

_Okay, so maybe they were supposed to be together?_  KC heard another voice in the background trying to calm Frank down. She was fairly certain that it was either Nelson or McLeish, but Frank was now covering the receiver with his hand so the voice was muffled. When he came back to her again, he was a bit calmer, but she knew it was simply a front.

"I'm sorry, Counselor Roberts. It's just that we expected Jon a few hours ago and he hasn't showed up yet or called. And we're getting worried."

KC took a deep breath. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous _? Because I become too personally involved. Friendship overrode professionalism._  But right now she had to finish what Jon had started.

"He's safe. Jon came to my place about an hour or so ago and," she paused as she decided exactly how much to share. The four officers were protecting each other and whatever secret they shared had to be uncovered.

"And?"

She rolled her eyes at herself and plowed forward. "And he broke down Frank. He is emotionally shattered and I can't help him unless I know what's going on."

He couldn't hide the sharp intake of breath before he covered the phone again to speak to whoever else was with him. She strained to hear the muffled conversation and knew they were weighing their options. Whatever happened inside that warehouse last week was the key to Jon's breakdown, and KC just couldn't figure out why the others were hiding the truth.

"I'll come and get him," Frank said, startling her.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'No?' He's my partner and my friend and if he's in trouble then I should be there for him."

_Bingo._  Now she had something to work with.

"If you want to 'be there' for him, Frank, then you should quit trying to avoid the issue and talk to me. Whatever it is your hiding is going to see the light of day one way or another, and I would like to think that you trust your counseling staff enough to do the right thing for you. And who's with you right now? Is it McLeish or Nelson?"

"Both," he replied with irritation.

"Good. So the three of you better listen up. You need to decide what's in your best interest right now: Is it one, Feeling the pain of your deception grow daily as you keep your secrets, eating at you bit by bit so you will probably be spending another six months in therapy as you wallow in depression because somebody screwed up that day and you're all taking the blame? Or is it two, plunging into the frigid water and feeling the pain intensely for a short time then moving forward with the rest of your lives? The ball is in your court, Poncherello."

She hated being so harsh with them, but sometimes it was exactly what was needed. They could all trust her to be caring and loving; she was the gentle one, the person officers went to if they simply needed someone to listen, or get a hug from. She understood the need for touch and how it related to mental health and healing. So when she got tough, they always knew it was with good reason. Even if they didn't like it.

KC could hear Frank's heavy breathing on the other line, and was surprised to hear Bruce Nelson whisper to the others. It was very soft but he had obviously heard what she had said because his voice was as clear as if he had been holding the phone.

"We need to tell her…"

"I am  _not_  going to lose all that I've worked for," Frank hissed back.

"Jon's probably already told her." That was Steve McLeish, always the realist.

KC interrupted them. "Boys, listen to me. Jon can't tell past from present right now. One minute he thinks you're all dead in the warehouse explosion and the next he's screaming for the chopper pilot to go back and pick up the two buddies they had to leave behind. When I said he was emotionally shattered I wasn't being over-dramatic. I was stating fact. He spent a good ten minutes throwing up, Frank.  _Throwing up_  because it was the only way he could release the emotion and pain that has been building up for the past week. He was beyond tears."

She could visualize the three of them huddled together around the receiver and could feel their fear and concern through the phone and hoped that they would make the right decision for Jon's sake. KC watched the clock on the wall and waited a full thirty seconds for them to answer.  _Damnit, why are they so stubborn?_  Waiting them out was pointless, so she broke the stalemate.

"Whatever happened last week is at the center of all this. All you have to do is trust me and let me take care of everything else. If Jon is as important to you as you claim he is, then do him a favor and let him off the hook. Keeping your secret is killing him, and I'm not using that word lightly. I know he's protecting you, but right now he can't even protect himself. Please tell me what's going on."


	2. Battles of the Present

KC flopped down onto her couch and leaned against her friend as he put his arm around her.

"So, what did you find out from the others?"

"As far as what actually happened that day, nothing." She sighed heavily. "But if you mean more about what we think is going on, plenty."

"So they are hiding something."

"Um hum. Most definitely keeping secrets. I even told them how broken Jon is, but Ponch won't let them talk, which leads me to believe he's covering for Jon. However," She sat up and smiled slightly, "I think if any one of them is going to break their silence, it's going to be Bruce."

Danny pondered this bit of information and spoke his thoughts as he played through the possibilities.

"Nelson huh? Youngest member of The Four Musketeers, the D'Artangon type. Been on the force for five years now, and they still call him 'rookie'. Older brother Bobby moved up north but he still tries to prove he's just as good or better than his brother. He's definitely got a 'little brother' complex, and the fact that people tease him about his boyish good looks and short stature doesn't help matters. Never partnered with Baker, but had Poncherello as a training officer and partner for about a year. He certainly looks up to the others, no pun intended, and he's probably caught between doing what's right and following the lead of more seasoned officers. What about McLeish, since Poncherello is obviously spearheading this adventure?"

KC had to laugh in spite of the seriousness of it all. "I didn't know you knew Bruce so well. But I have to admit that your assessment is pretty spot on. I'm not too sure about Steve, he's a lot like Jon in that he's intensely private. He is very realistic, though, and pragmatic. That could work in our favor, especially since he's partnered with Jon before and may want to help him because of that partnership."

Danny scratched the stubble on his chin. "But then you would think that Poncherello would be the first one to stand by Jon's side, unless Jon is covering for  _him_  and the others are trying to protect Ponch."

KC put her head in her hands and groaned. "Oh  _please_  don't start with your circular reasoning again, Danny."

"I won't because it's too late and even I'm too tired to try and make it work. But I will say that while you were on the phone with them, Jon started talking to me and made a very interesting comment. Well, not so much a comment as a plea. He grabbed my arms and said, 'Please don't make me choose between my partners. I can't do it. Please.'"

KC blinked in shock. "'Choose between his partners?' What the heck does  _that_  mean?"

Danny sighed and rubbed his tired eyes roughly with his fists. "Well, it sounds like he's covering for one and the other doesn't like it. His morals are being tested and it's tearing him apart. At least that's my best guess."

"Now I'm glad I decided to bring Getraer in on this," she said. "I told him a little about what happened tonight and asked him to help me confront the other three."

"I dunno Kace…"

"Trust me Dan. After what we've been through with Jon tonight, we need help getting answers. Joe is going to invite them all over to his home tomorrow and then I'm going to show up and turn it into an in-home session. I already have an appointment scheduled with Steve tomorrow at three o'clock, and I know you're supposed to see Frank and Bruce so I just decided to combine the appointments and hold them in the home of their sergeant, that's all. They trust him and are comfortable in his home, but it gives no one 'home field advantage' as it were."

Danny smiled and shook his head. "You always surprise me, and I'm proud to work with you. And by the way, Dr. Wexler is very impressed with what we've accomplished with Jon tonight."

"Wait. You called him already? I thought we'd call together."

"I figured since you were calling the Three Musketeers, I'd give Wex a call. I mean, he  _is_  the head of our department after all." She stuck her tongue out at him. "He agrees that we need to  _gently_  force the issue with the others in light of Jon's breakdown, but they have to open up on their own. He'll stop by tomorrow morning to assess Jon's condition and then we'll go from there. And speaking of morning…"

He gave a huge yawn and stood up, pulling KC up as well and started walking her toward the bedroom to check on Jon. He was fast asleep and had not moved from the position Dan put him in. KC looked up at her coworker, the question obvious in her eyes, and he answered it.

"I think that given he came to you in a crisis, that you should be the one to stay in here. I know what you're thinking, but don't worry about it. Wex already gave his approval. Anyway, I'm here, and if you're sick enough to take advantage of him in the state he's in then I'll fire you myself and hang you out to dry so fast you won't know what hit you."

KC smiled and shook her head, cheeks pink with embarrassment of the teasing insinuation. He loved making her smile when she was nervous and Dan put his arm around her.

"You just sleep on top of the bedspread and I'll go get that pink and yellow quilt out of the front room to cover you with. Satisfied?"

"I guess…"

Danny placed both hands on her shoulders and looked down upon her sternly.

"Kassandra Catherine Roberts. It is my  _professional_  opinion that this man needs the non-threatening presence of a woman if he wakes up in a panic. He is under the covers, you will be on top of them. I am exhausted and if I don't get some sleep soon…"

"Okay okay. Go get the quilt."

-0-

Eight am came entirely too soon and KC awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and two male voices in her living room. She quickly put on her robe and walked into the living room.

"Well good morning, sunshine."

Doctor Wexler was sitting in her grandmother's brocade wingback chair, talking with Dr. Altman, and KC just stood there in a not-quite-awake-yet daze.

"Uh oh, deer-in-the-headlights look," Dan said as he approached her with a cup of steaming coffee. "Kace, we talked about this last night, remember? I brought him up to speed on the situation."

KC took the blue mug from him and crossed over to the couch, sitting down on the edge of the cushion. She breathed in the comforting scent of the brew, then took a sip.

"A penny for your thoughts KC," he said in the rich baritone that always had a calming effect on people.

"I've seen a lot of breakdowns in my career Carl, but this is by far the worst I've experienced."

The counselor shared Jon's breakdown with her superior and how difficult it was to help him through it because both she and Dan knew that Jon's rational side was fighting with memories of the war in Viet Nam and that he was not coping with whatever really happened in the warehouse. The fact that he was hiding something was obvious, and was confirmed last night with her conversation with Ponch.

Dr. Wexler listened intently to the counselor as she described the officer's breakdown, taking notes along the way. She was very thorough and professional as always, but he could hear the strain in her voice held up his hand to silence her.

"Thank you, Kassandra. This is a very disturbing trend. Very disturbing indeed."

"What do you mean, 'trend'," Danny asked.

"Deputy Shane Kordela had a similar episode two days after the raid. Not nearly as severe, mind you, but it was a breakdown nonetheless."

"Jon's not the only one?" The fear and hope in KC's voice were reflected on Danny's face and Dr. Wexler heaved a sigh.

"No, he's not. From what our senior staff has been able to gather from officer accounts, it seems that the kidnappers did their very best to rig the warehouse to act and feel like the jungles of Viet Nam, and they did a damn good job of it: We know windows were painted black so there was limited light coming in; it was a hot day and the building was humid, and they all had protective gear on similar to something a soldier might wear."

The doctor and counselor nodded, and Danny said, "Well, that would certainly explain Officer Baker's flashbacks."

They discussed things for a few more minutes before Dr. Wexler was taken to check on Jon. The officer was so exhausted from his ordeal that he appeared to be sedated, which made things easier for everyone. Once both doctors compared notes and conferred about a treatment plan, they got Jon into KC's car and went to the hospital. Knowing Jon's aversion to medical facilities and not wanting to upset him, the trio had decided to have Dr. Wexler brief a couple of nurses on the situation and then come out to KC's car with a mild sedative for Jon. He was then put in a wheelchair and taken up to the psychiatric ward.

Once he was settled in, Dr. Wexler led the other two into the fourth floor conference room.

"I apologize for being late," he said to the assembled group as they walked in and the three took their seats. "CHP Officer Jon Baker had a breakdown last night and went to Counselor Roberts for assistance. She and Dr. Altman supported him during his collapse, and the counselor spoke to his partner, Officer Poncherello, getting as much if not more information from what wasn't said as what he actually told her."

"So, Counselor Troi did it again, huh," Dr. Maxine Brown said with a genuine smile. "Good for you Kace."

"In light of Officer Baker's episode, I firmly believe that the kidnappers were not simply after Officer Daniels, but wanted to destroy as many officers as they could- physically, mentally, and emotionally. It's no secret that many soldiers leave the service and become peace officers, and that they don't readily share the horrors they witness. And those who watch a fellow officer flashback to the war fear that their friend will be taken off the force, so they don't share everything they know or hide facts. We think the kidnappers counted on this."

Nods and murmurs of agreement floated around the room, and small groups started having discussions about their various patients.

"And now," Dr. Wexler said after a few minutes, "let's see what we can do for your Deputy Sheriffs and LAPD officers to get them through this as well."

-o-

After the meeting, KC and Danny went to see how Jon was doing. The sedative hadn't worn off yet so they were pleased to find him fast asleep.

"See, nothing to worry about," he said to the counselor with a smile. "Now, seeing as it's almost eleven o'clock, you need to get out of here and go talk to the three musketeers and break'um."

KC chuckled. "Yes sir! But gently, of course."

"Of course," he said with a wink and settled down in the padded armchair. "I've cancelled my appointments for the day and I'm going to stay with Jon. And catch up on some reading." He held up a very thick book.

"Ooh,  _Lord of the Rings_. I love that book. Well," she said with a deep sigh, "I'm off."

-0-

KC stood on the Getraer's front porch for almost two minutes before finally knocking on the door. Betty greeted her, purse in hand. "Hello Counselor Roberts. Thank you for allowing Joe to be a part of this."

"I'm glad he offered," she replied and stepped into the entry and pointed to Betty's purse. "Is it that bad?"

"Huh? Oh, no! Well, maybe… I just figured I'd step out and let the five of you have some time alone. I'm going to take the boys to my mom's for the afternoon, and possibly even stay for dinner, so take all the time you need."

"Thank you, Mrs. Getraer."

Betty took KC's hands in her own. "No, thank  _you_  for being there for Jon and for the others." She gave the counselor's hands a squeeze. "Just head down the hall and turn left. You can't miss them."

KC closed the door behind the sergeant's wife and headed into the living room. When she rounded the corner she had to hide a smile at the scene before her. Ponch and Steve were sitting on the couch and Bruce was in a low chair, all three looking like reprimanded schoolboys. The sergeant was sitting on the piano bench and stood when he saw her.

"Counselor, thank you for coming on such short notice."

_He told them this meeting was his idea. Thank you Joe!_

She took his proffered hand and answered promptly, "You're very welcome, sergeant. It actually worked in our favor, since Dr. Altman has had to cancel all his appointments today to stay with Jon at the hospital."

Three heads snapped up at that and the tension level raised two notches. "Why is Jon in the hospital," Ponch asked with suspicion.

"It's standard procedure when someone has a mental breakdown to admit them for observation and assessment for forty-eight hours," she replied coolly. "When I told you last night that Jon was broken emotionally and mentally, I wasn't kidding. He could barely speak because he was either vomiting violently or sobbing as if his heart was breaking. Care to explain why?"

The sergeant's eyebrows almost shot off his forehead in surprise but he managed to keep quiet. He had been warned that he was simply an observer, but KC still felt badly that she couldn't tell him everything ahead of time. This was not going to be an easy day.

Ponch licked his lips and glanced nervously at Bruce and then to Steve. Bruce's right leg started bouncing and Steve's hands were clenching into fists and then relaxing, clenching and relaxing. But no one spoke. KC stood in front of the couch and looked at Bruce on her right.

"Officer Nelson, do  _you_  have any information that might shed some light on the subject?"

Bruce glanced at Ponch and KC saw the older officer's jaw clench and eyes widen slightly in a silent demand for the younger man to stay quiet. Her suspicions were confirmed and she turned to Ponch.

"Frank, who are you covering for? Dr. Altman and I need to know what really happened that afternoon or we can't help Jon recover, do you understand that?"

She could see the internal struggle in his dark eyes, but also a persistent stubbornness that refused to believe that he could trust her.

"He's gonna be fine, he said so." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs then quickly sat back up as if in pain, adjusting the sleeve of his dress shirt to cover his wrist. This did not escape the counselor's trained eye, but she did not comment on it.

"Really? Well based on what Dr. Altman and I experienced with him last night, I'd beg to differ. He had a  _mental and emotional **breakdown**_ , Frank. He said, 'I killed them… kill to protect Mitch… Bruce is down.' Who's Mitch, anyway? And the kicker was, 'Don't make me chose between my partners.' Does that sound like someone who is 'going to be fine' to you?"

"What?" The sergeant couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Choose between… No. Nelson, Poncherello, McLeish, this has gone far enough. I am  _ordering_  you to come clean or I'll have no choi-"

"No Joe," KC turned to face him. "You can't just order someone to-"

"The hell I can't," he shouted. "I've got a man lying in a mental ward because these three jokers won't tell the truth and let us help Jon or them!"

"He thought I was-"

"Nelson," Ponch's warning carried a subtle pleading tone as well.

_Now we're getting somewhere,_  the counselor thought as she pointed at Getraer and then to the piano bench and stood there until he obeyed. She squatted next to Bruce's chair and looked up into his frightened blue eyes. She saw a stubbornness there similar to what she saw in Frank's eyes, and also a maturity that surprised her.  _He's not as 'young' as they think he is. We've **all**  underestimated him as an officer and a man._

"Bruce," KC spoke in a firm but gentle tone, "When you first gave your account of what happened, you said you were trapped under a beam and ceiling debris and the other three had to free you, correct?" He nodded and his right leg started its nervous bouncing again. "Was it really as simple as that?"

Steve shifted his position and sucked in sharply, placing his left hand against his side while Ponch seemed to absently rub his right forearm, tears forming yet not enough to actually fall. Joe walked to the couch and sat down beside Ponch, placing a hand on his knee.

"Frank, you have to trust us," Joe said gently. "No one is going to lose their job over this unless you continue to lie to yourself and us. We know you are protecting someone, but right now you're doing more harm than good for him and yourself. Dr. Altman and Counselor Roberts can help you all work through this if you'll let them."

The stubborn silence prevailed for ten seconds. KC left Bruce's side and sat on the arm of the couch beside Steve. Normally she preferred to be at or below the patient's eye level, but this time she was asserting her authority. A new idea had popped into her head and she used the height to give her unspoken leverage.

"McLeish. I know you and Poncherello were both partners with Jon and have his best interest at heart. I know he is a senior officer to all three of you, and based on past reports in your files, you have all deferred to his judgment in the past, letting his word be the final say on things. Did Officer Baker make a unilateral decision for the four of you that you're not comfortable with?"

Looking back on this moment later that evening with Danny and Dr. Wexler, KC would say that this was her most impressive 'Troi moment' yet.

Shock and relief mingled on Steve's face. "Jon made us promise…" he said and looked at the others, waiting for someone to stop him.

Ponch leaned back and exhaled loudly, running both hands down his face.  _It wasn't supposed to be like this! Protecting your partner shouldn't be this difficult._  "I promised Jon we … Damnit!" He sat up and looked at Sgt. Getraer. "He's not gonna be pulled for this?"

KC answered him, "I can't promise that, Frank. What I  _can_  promise however is that we will do everything in our power to help him deal with whatever the issue is and move toward putting him back on duty."

"He was just trying to protect me…" Bruce's voice quivered with emotion, "He kept calling me 'Mitch' and said he wouldn't let them kill me."

The counselor turned back toward Bruce asked softly, "What do you mean, 'he wouldn't let them kill you,' Bruce?"

Ponch and Steve both held their breath as Bruce took a moment to find the courage to speak. "Jon attacked them," Bruce said quietly as he pointed at the others. "He tried to kill them."

KC's thoughts went back to last night, and all of a sudden, everything made perfect sense. She looked over to Steve who was still holding his side. She understood now and knew why they had kept silent. It wasn't simply the fact that Jon had experienced a flashback but that he had actually attacked two of his closest friends. She was now becoming very concerned about the way Frank held his arm and Steve was struggling to find a comfortable position.

"I remember someone shouting, 'Bomb!' and then the next thing I know I was pinned by some beams and debris," Bruce said softly. "McLeish was closest to me. He started to lift a beam when I heard this, this  _roar_  and then he was suddenly gone. I couldn't see what was happening, but I knew the three of them were fighting…

_Plaster and drywall dust was everywhere, making it hard to see, let alone breathe. Ponch had been knocked against the wall by the small explosion and was momentarily dazed. He could hear McLeish talking to Nelson and as he sat up, he heard a primal yell._

" _Jon! What the hell are you doing?" Ponch watched in shock as his partner tackled McLeish hard._

" _Don't touch him you bastard! You've killed enough of us already and I won't let you take Mitch too!"_

_Jon was sitting on top of his former partner, throwing punches at his chest and face like a fury. Steve started fighting back and was able to briefly wind his assailant with a sharp punch just below the protective vest above his groin. He shoved Jon backwards and rolled over into a crouched position, ready to defend himself._

" _Jon, its Steve McLeish. We're friends. Don't…"_

" _No! I won't let you kill him," Jon bellowed and charged again before Ponch could reach him._

" _What's going on, Ponch," Bruce called out._

" _Baker! Jon get a grip," Ponch yelled as he grabbed his friend by the left arm and turned Jon towards him. He was face to face with someone he didn't recognize: an angry, frightened, desperate man whose eyes were hard and cold. Ponch was so shocked by what he saw that he was completely unprepared for the right hook that knocked him to the floor._

_Steve's mind raced as he tried to figure out how to calm Jon down. It was obvious words would not work, but he didn't want to hurt his friend either. When Jon sucker-punched Ponch, Steve realized that he had to subdue him as if he were a suspect resisting arrest. When he turned his attention back to Steve, the officer stood up and held his hands up, palms out about shoulder level._

" _Look, Baker. I don't know what you think is going on here, but no one's going to hurt you or Bruce."_

_Blue eyes blazed with cold hatred and Jon muttered something that sounded like Vietnamese, then started to circle around to his right._

_For the first time since this began, Steve was truly afraid. This was not the Jon Baker he knew and this man frightened him. Everyone at the station knew Jon had been a Marine in 'Nam, but he never talked about it. He wasn't sure if Jon was reliving something that happened or had just completely snapped, but either way this man was dangerous._

_Steve glanced over at Ponch who was slowly sitting up, and then started to talk to Jon again, keeping the man's focus off of Ponch. But Jon simply charged him again._

_Though still woozy, Ponch started toward the two men, but then changed his mind and went over to Bruce. He thought that if he could get him out, then Jon would calm down._

" _I need you to help me anyway you can, Nelson. Can you push that piece up?"_

_Even though Jon was smaller than Steve, he was much stronger than his former partner expected and Steve doubled over when Jon landed a hard punch to his side that the vest didn't protect. He saw stars as the stabbing pain seared his consciousness, causing him to sway on his feet._

" _You won't kill anymore today," Jon hissed as he pulled Steve back up and shoved him into the remains of the wall, completely winding the officer._

_There was a noise behind him to his right and Jon turned to see a dark haired form leaning over the youngest Marine in his unit… the only other survivor of the blast. He released his hold on Steve who slid down the wall as he tried to catch his breath and Jon didn't give him another thought as he grabbed the knife from the back of his utility belt and quietly crept toward his prey._

_The pain was intense. Steve could barely breathe as he lay on his side, leaning against the wall for support. He watched Jon draw his knife and desperately tried to get enough air in his lungs to warn Ponch. Jon was about five feet from his partner when the warning finally came._

" _Knife…"_

_Ponch spun around just as Jon slashed at him. The knife connected with his right forearm just above the wrist. He attacked again, this time in a swiping motion across the mid-section and Ponch jumped back but stumbled on debris and fell backwards. Jon was on top of him in an instant slashing at his arms and chest almost blindly, and Ponch found himself fighting for his life against his best friend._

" _Jon, don't! He's not the enemy," Bruce yelled over the two combatants as he struggled to move the beam pinning him down. "McLeish help him, I can't move this damn thing!"_

_Steve struggled to his feet as Ponch grabbed his partner's knife hand, trying to disarm him. Steve took as deep a breath as he could and grabbed Jon by the back of his collar, spun him around and punched him the jaw. It stunned Jon long enough for Steve to plant his fist firmly in the same small section of ribs Jon had hit him in._

_While Jon was doubled over Steve disarmed the officer and quickly put him in a restraining hold, keeping him bent forward._

" _Ponch, you okay," Steve asked, his breathing labored._

_The reply was hesitant and slow in coming. "Yeah, I think so…"_

"It was like something straight out of the Twilight Zone, Sarge," Steve said quietly. "I had to do it. I had to stop him before he…" his guilt and fear were almost as tangible as Jon's had been the night before and it hurt KC's heart to watch them relive it.

Getraer turned to Steve. "You did the right thing, McLeish. You have nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty for, do you understand me?"

He nodded slowly, but Joe could see the doubt in his eyes.

KC motioned for Steve to scoot to his right so she could move from the couch arm to the cushion below, and he winced at the movement. She gave him a stern but concerned look and then carefully pressing her hand against his side. He jumped at her touch but stayed as still as he could as she felt where Jon had hit him.

"Lift up your shirt. I need to see it. And you," she pointed at Frank, "roll up your sleeves." She was quiet and serious, very much all business. "These injuries should have been tended to the day they happened, not four days later. And just how the hell did you avoid the hos…"

She couldn't keep the shocked gasp inside as she saw the ugly bruise on Steve's side. And judging from the amount of pain he was in, she thought he might have at minimum a fractured rib. Right about that time, Joe got a good look at Ponch's arms.

"My God, Frank!"

He held the officer's right arm out so KC could see as well. There was one deep cut on his forearm that Ponch had bandaged as best he could, and several more cuts all over both arms, some worse than others but all were angry red reminders of the other day.

"Oh, Frank." KC took hold of his left hand and looked into grief-stricken eyes.

There were a few moments of silence before Steve spoke, voice husky with emotion.

"Bruce was the one who snapped him out of it. He told me to bring Jon over to him…"

" _Let him go, Steve."_

_Bruce sounded a lot more confident than he felt and he prayed his idea worked. He looked up at Jon and called to him._

" _Jon, its Mitch. Help me please. Get me outta here. I'm, I'm hurt." He wasn't so sure that last part was a good idea, but it was too late to change it now._

_Jon heard the young marine calling to him and saw his friend trapped underneath the debris. He knelt down beside him and took Bruce's hand._

" _I got 'um, Mitch. Those VC bastards won't hurt you again."_

" _Jon, I'm Bruce, Bruce Nelson. We work together for the California Highway Patrol."_

_Steve and Ponch couldn't see Jon's face, but his body language was more than enough. His back stiffened and he tilted his head to the right as if trying to process the information, and then shook his head. Bruce persisted._

" _Yes, Jon. You're not a Marine anymore; you're a cop with the CHP. I really am trapped under this stuff and I need you to help me. Please."_

_Jon couldn't focus for a moment and rubbed his eyes. The rage and fear were draining away and he looked again at the trapped man, confused._

" _Bruce?"_

" _Yeah, Jon. It's me. Help me outta here."_

Steve paused and looked over at Ponch, hoping he would continue, but he stayed silent.

KC saw the look and gave a little push. "And then what happened?"

Ponch cleared his throat and tried to speak, but nothing would come out except a strangled gasp.

"Don't force it, Frank," KC said gently. "I know it's unreal and frightening to be attacked by someone you're close to. Take your time, and don't fight the tears. The sergeant and I give you permission to cry; it's the strongest and bravest thing you can do right now."

As odd as it sounded, Ponch felt a flood of relief when the counselor said that. There was just something comforting in hearing someone acknowledge his feelings.

"We stayed behind them, waiting until we knew Jon was back with us again. He ah, he moved the beam and Bruce was able to drag himself out. Jon started looking around and saw the two of us. We didn't move. He got a funny look on his face when he looked at me, and then saw my arms…"

No one picked up the thread and the silence started to become uncomfortable. KC made eye contact with the sergeant and gave a small shake of her head, hoping he understood what she meant. As a counselor, she found it most difficult to wait out a prolonged silence but knew it was necessary to build their trust. She knew they weren't done and her discomfort wasn't nearly as bad as theirs.

"He looked like he was going to be sick," Ponch finally said after almost two minutes.

Steve nodded, "He looked at the three of us and said, 'What did I say to you?' Nelson told him about being called Mitch and Jon nearly collapsed. Grief-stricken is the best description, but that barely even covers it."

"That's when he said that we couldn't breathe a word of this to anyone," Bruce continued. "Said to lie about our injuries, and when Ponch started to question him he became belligerent. 'I'm not going to lose everything because of this! I'll talk to someone at the VA… I'll be fine.' And then he broke down."

They spent another twenty minutes sharing before KC felt they'd had enough. She told Getraer that the three of them would be on leave for another four weeks and she would let him know about Jon. Then she turned back to the officers again.

"Guys, look at me." She waited until they all made eye contact before continuing. "I know you won't believe this right now, but you still need to hear it; look at me- You did  **not**  betray Jon. You are  **not**  weak, or stupid or crybabies or any other nasty, derogatory labels or names you can come up with. You watched a close friend relive a nightmare and you became players in it. There is no shame in feeling frightened."

She had their undivided attention, and she saw a glimmer of hope in Frank's eyes as she spoke.  _Maybe these three will actually take my words to heart and make the healing process easier for themselves._  She smiled inwardly at the thought and finished up her little speech.

"And I know that you all feel guilty for various reasons: not recognizing the signs in Jon, if there were any, not being able to help your friends, or for various actions you had to take to defend yourselves. But I need you to understand that it's okay. Don't beat yourselves up about it. Feel it. Embrace it. Grieve through it and then let it go. You can't change it. It happened and it's done. We will work through this together and you  **will**  heal. And that's a promise."

Getraer watched his men as the counselor spoke and saw a subtle change in their demeanor. All three had looked so depressed and beaten, and each one looked away from her when she listed off the reasons for feeling guilty about things. But as they listened to what she said, they seemed to gain some hope and confidence, though not a lot. But it was enough.


	3. Release the Past, Embrace the Future

Dr. Altman hung up the phone at the nurse's station and gave a low whistle.

"Everything alright, Dan," head nurse Maureen Katz asked.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "That was KC. She met with the officers that were with Baker last week and found out what really happened that day."

"So, she broke them, eh?"

Danny laughed, though it carried a sad note to it. "Yeah, she broke'um. And things make much more sense now, especially since Dr. Wexler brought Officer Baker's file over from the VA."

He walked back into Jon's room, glanced at his patient and then his watch. "One o'clock. You probably have another hour or so of peace, my friend." He sat down in the standard hospital room chair, pulled the bed table in front of him again and picked up the next piece of paper in the file. He glanced through it and shook his head with a sigh. "Oh Baker, you simply did what you had to do. Why can't you accept that?"

After fifteen minutes the doctor closed the file and rubbed his eyes. "I just can't read medical files for more than an hour, even with a phone call as a break. And Prof. Matson always said, 'Too much studying can inhibit one's ability to help their patient.'" He picked up The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King and slouched into the chair. "Alright Aragorn, where were we? Ah yes, The Houses of Healing."

An hour later Jon groaned and Danny looked at the clock. "Good, the patient is waking up right on schedule."

The fog of sleep was lifting but the ghosts tried to hold on.  _Viet Cong... no, don't... Shane, Bob... I'm so sorry. Mitch, hang on… don't you touch him or I'll kill you with my bare hands!_

Jon gasped and looked around as he became fully awake.

"It's okay Jon, I'm here," Dan said. "Do you know where you are?"

"I'm in the hospital," he replied groggily. "I hate hospitals."

Dr. Altman chuckled, "I know, that's why I'm here."

"When can I leave?"

"You're here for forty-eight hour observation, Officer Baker."

"Shit." Panic, fear and anger flashed across Jon's face and he tried to get out of bed. He instantly regretted the move as the room rocked and swayed.

"Easy there, cowboy," Dr. Altman said as he put his hand on Jon's chest and guided him to lay down again.

"What the hell'd ya do to me, doc? I feel like I've got molasses for blood."

"We gave you a mild sedative so your body could get the rest it desperately needed. As agitated as you were last night, we couldn't risk another outburst and have you pulling out your IV or hurting yourself."

Memories of the previous night played in his head like corn kernels popping in hot oil, coming faster and faster until they all played in one continuous scene. The tightness in his throat and chest began again but he refused to let the tears come. He had always found it difficult to cry, even though it was exactly what he knew he needed to do. But crying meant letting go of the tight control he'd built to protect himself from the past, and even after the previous night, Jon still stubbornly fought to keep whatever control he had left.

"By the way," Dan continued, "Ponch, McLeish and Nelson met with KC and Sgt. Getraer this morning; KC told them what happened with you last night and they finally shared what really happened in the warehouse last week."

"Oh God..."

"No one is going to lose their job, Jon. All we have ever wanted is to help all of you cope with whatever happened that day, not judge you for what you perceive as weakness."

It took a moment before Jon finally spoke. "I tried to kill them."

Dr. Altman placed his hand on his shoulder. "But you didn't, and that counts for something."

The officer turned his head, refusing to cry. He could see Ponch standing next to McLeish, both hurt and frightened, knowing it was his fault. He saw the blood on his partner's uniform. The gash in his arm…

"How can I face…" his voice caught in his throat and he tried to swallow the lump that settled there. After a short pause he spoke again, slowly and purposefully. "I was… vicious."

Jon felt so out of control and he hated feeling vulnerable; he was exhausted from the night before and his eyes hurt from all the tears he'd already shed. He could feel the wave of emotion swelling again and he saw Danny shake his head, eyes full sympathy and understanding.

"Jon."

"I can't do this again…" he pounded his fists into the side of the bed in anger. "I won't fall apart like last night. I won't do it!"

"You've got no choice. Your body has to deal with this, one way or the other. Talking will help but you still have to release the emotions somehow. So it's cry or throw up. There are no other options."

Jon groaned as he turned on his side and curled up into the fetal position. Danny hated feeling so helpless, but he knew that Jon was the only one who could help himself at this point. He sat back in his chair and picked up his book from the nightstand, flipped to the bookmark and started to read about the Last Stand of Man when Aragorn and what little army he had left went to the Black Gate to confront Sauron's forces in a hopeless battle. Tolkien's descriptions of what Aragorn was facing, what he had already lost and what this battle could and would cost Aragorn struck a chord in the doctor and sparked an idea.

"Jon, have you ever read 'The Lord of the Rings?'"

The non-sequitor had the desired effect on his patient as Jon opened his eyes and gave him a look that simply said, 'Are you effen kidding me?' and Danny chuckled.

"I'm serious." He held up the book for him to see. "Have you ever read it?"

Jon nodded, now a bit curious and answered cautiously. "Yeah, my mom made me read it when I was in high school, and I read it again about a year ago."

"Good. Do you remember when Aragorn led the Gondorian and Rohirrim armies to the Black Gate to face Sauron's army?"

Jon nodded. He looked thoroughly confused but more importantly he was focused on something other than his current situation, which was exactly what the doctor wanted.

"There were hordes of goblins, trolls, orcs, wild men and Uruk-hai racing out of Mordor toward Aragorn's army, bent on their utter destruction. It was something like six thousand Men of the West against sixty thousand of Sauron's forces, but Aragorn and his men, and even Pippin the hobbit, stood firm against impossible odds."

"I know the feeling," Jon said.

Danny watched as the officer's blue eyes focused on images in his mind. It was quiet in the room except for the random beeping of the IV machine as Jon saw his past translate itself into Tolkien's fantasy world.

 

_The landscape was desolate, the sky brown and gray. There was a tall watchtower among the rocky path, and Jon was barricaded inside. This was the same tower he saw himself in last night as he sat on Counselor Roberts' bathroom floor. He could again feel the fiery arrows strike the stone walls, see their flames from the small window and smell the stench of fear, decay and death._

_He pressed his back against the stone wall and made a furtive glance out the window. The ambiguous enemy began to take form from the dark mist that covered the ground; his emotions bonded together with memories from the war to become trolls, orcs and uruk-hai. Monsters that knew his weaknesses, some of them with the faces of men. Some the image of things he did and wanted to forget, and some things he saw that left deep scars._

_They had been locked away in the dungeon the young soldier had made deep in his soul, behind thick walls of steel resolve and concrete stubbornness. But time wears away even the strongest things, and one man can't stay diligent forever. As the walls weakened, memories would escape and usually be dealt with or simply stuffed back into their cell. But on that fateful day when the CHP officers were searching the warehouse and the small bomb exploded, every memory shoved forward and shattered their prison, running rampant and uncontrolled across the landscape of Jon's soul. And his partner and two close friends were struck by the flying shrapnel._

_The attack on his tower intensified and Jon felt powerless. His memories attacked him relentlessly and he could feel the weight of guilt and shame in the form of the One Ring as it hung on a chain from his neck. Panic set in as arrows began to come through the windows, and the chain began to tighten around his neck, choking its victim in guilt and regret. Before he could black out, Jon felt strong hands pulling on the chain, breaking its hold and allowing him to breathe once more. As his vision cleared he saw Dr. Altman's face above him, and the Ranger looked concerned._

_"Jon, it's okay now. You're going to be fine. Reinforcements are here," the Ranger said._

_He looked around as saw Counselor Roberts at the window, firing grenades from her elven bow along with pure white arrows, striking the enemy with every shot._

_"You see? And elves rarely miss," the ranger said. "Now, let me help you with your burden as I swore to do when we started this adventure. Give me the ring."_

_"No, I can't, I wont!" Jon clutched at the ring, "I can't let go. I have to always remember who I was and what I could become. Don't take my memories away."_

_He started to struggle with the ranger until a female voice whispered in his ear, "Jon, we don't want to take them away. Listen to me, Baker."_

_A cool hand crossed his brow and he sank back down on the cold stone floor. Elves have such magical, healing powers, he thought as she sang to him, combing his hair with her fingers. The melody was familiar to him and he didn't know the words, but that didn't matter. He could hear the ranger talking to the elf, and she seemed to sing her answers to him._

_And then he became aware of a dark presence and tried to warn the others, but it was too late. Quan Diep, the monstrous uruk-hai, came through the tower door and stood before the trio._

_The ring became heavier and started to whisper its most horrific memory to its wearer. The young Marine paled and began to quake._

_"No, not you, not again!"_

_A machete blade gleamed in the pale light and the monster spoke. "Bây giờ tôi sẽ giết bạn là tôi đã giết binh sĩ của bạn," (_ Now I will kill you as I killed your soldiers!) _the uruk-hai said and reached for Jon._

 _"Thang khoon, tao sha gnit mhy pbang jing djoy tai!" (_ You bastard, I'll kill you with my bare hands!) _Jon shouted back._

_The elf and ranger took defensive positions to protect Jon. The uruk began to scream as gashes and cuts began to appear on his arms and face from no visible source, and he charged toward the marine and his defenders. But suddenly the uruk hai stopped as a gaping stab wound appeared under his ribs, and he dropped to his knees. Then the slash appeared across his neck…_

"Officer Baker, this is Dr. Altman. You're having a flashback, wake up."

"Jon, snap out of it!"

It was the fear in KC's voice that finally broke through and reached Officer Jon Baker of the California Highway Patrol. He made eye contact with the counselor and actually saw her for the first time.

"KC…? What are you, when did you…?"

He blinked several times as the vision faded and it took almost a minute before he was back to himself again. Both she and Danny sighed in relief and she took Jon's hand. "I got here about five minutes ago. You had a flashback, Jon."

"No I didn't," he looked at Dr. Altman, "we were talking about The Lord of the Rings and how Sauron's forces outnumbered Aragorn's and I..." he blinked in confusion, "I saw myself in the tower at the edge of Mordor, where the orcs took Frodo."

"Cirith Ungol," Dan said. "You were describing it in vivid detail."

"I was?"

KC nodded, "You described the tower, the fiery arrows, the trolls and orcs… you were talking to us as if we were a ranger and an elf, and apparently I'm very good with a bow."

The light-hearted quip fell flat and Dan picked up the thread. "Something or someone must have entered the tower because you became aggressive, and I think you called it 'Quandee-ep. Then you started speaking what sounded like Vietnamese."

Jon's face drained of color and he lay back against the pillows. The counselor poured a cup of water for him which he downed in two gulps. His hand was shaking as he handed it back to her and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Other than a few simple words I only remember one phrase in Vietnamese, and I wish I could forget it."

They waited for him to continue but it soon became clear he wasn't ready to share yet, however Dr. Altman was prepared.

"So, based on what you described to us a few minutes ago, you see yourself as Frodo?"

"What?"

"You described the tower you were in and it was very much like where Frodo was, and you spoke about The Ring you had to carry and that you wouldn't give it up. So you must relate with Frodo and his burden. Do you?"

He wasn't sure he trusted the question and tried to figure out where Dr. Altman was going with it. He lay back in the bed, his mind processing things so fast that he could barely keep up. It was almost two minutes before Jon started to answer the doctor's question. His eyes had a faraway look and Dan picked up his notepad and pen.

"I guess I do. He took on the burden of The One Ring- the darkest and most powerful evil in Middle Earth- and went to Mount Doom to destroy it, believing he wouldn't return. And when the need arose, he found the strength within him to do what everyone else thought was impossible for anyone, let alone a small, peaceful creature like a hobbit. He was innocent and believed the best of everyone, and that innocence was torn away by the horrors he saw and experienced. But he still kept his simple faith that he was doing the right thing no matter the cost to him. But..."

Danny glanced up from his notes. "But?"

"But Aragorn was the soldier, a Ranger, protecting peoples and lands that were in his blood yet was rejected by them because they didn't understand who or what he was. He would do anything to protect the people he loved, the country he loved, even if it meant he had to sacrifice himself. He had a purpose in life, and I think he knew that he could die, but somehow knew he wouldn't until that purpose was accomplished. He had the blessing of the gods on him."

"The Valar," Danny muttered as he scribbled in his messy shorthand. He was absolutely ecstatic with the way this was going and glanced across the bed to KC, an impish twinkle in his eyes that said,  _I guess you're not the only 'Counselor Troi' on staff anymore!_  and she just shook her head, wrinkling her nose at him.

"So," Dr. Altman started, "like Aragorn, you willingly went forth in life to protect your country and saw all the atrocities that the 'orcs' and 'Uruk-hai' committed against your countrymen and the people you were trying to protect, and you went to battle against them again and again in what seemed like a hopeless circle. Even after the war, you remained a soldier by becoming a CHP officer. And on that day in October so long ago you took your squad up to the Black Gates, brazenly outnumbered by an enemy bent on your utter destruction, because others needed the enemy to be distracted. Right?"

As Jon's pulse accelerated, the vein on his neck became more visible and he lost a little more color in his face. He looked at Dr. Altman and swallowed hard, wiping perspiration from his upper lip.  _Ohmygod, he knows…_

"And like Frodo, you faced that same horrible enemy who was both without and within. Frodo was stabbed by the Ringwraiths, and even if you were never shot or stabbed in the war, you were emotionally injured. Frodo carried the Ring around his neck which weighed him down just as your memories do. And the Ring whispered lies and deceitful things to try and break his will, but as Gandalf pointed out, hobbits are amazing creatures. You never know where their true strength lies until they are tested."

Jon's eyes were moist, and he was still fairly calm. But Danny wasn't quite finished yet.

"Neither man nor hobbit considered himself a hero because they simply did what was right and what needed to be done, no matter the cost. Just as you have. But the hobbit never truly forgot the horror he saw, and I'm sure Aragorn had nightmares about the men he'd killed."

Jon stiffened and felt the rush of emotion from the center of his chest and he clenched his eyes shut, forcing the feelings back into their hastily rebuilt prison. Distance from emotion had kept him sane, and as a nineteen year old Marine, he had needed that. But trying to allow himself to deal with them fifteen years later was proving almost impossible.

The counselor leaned forward on the side rail of the bed and looked her patient right in the eyes; eyes filled with pain and grief, anger and self-doubt.

"Jon, let me ask you something," KC said. "What would you do if this was the same situation, except it was Ponch who attacked you?"

"I would try to help him any way I could," Jon answered without hesitating. "I would stand by him and protect him and help him through it."

"Why? He tried to kill you."

"Because he didn't do it on purpose, it just happened." He paused, realizing what he'd just said. He stared at his feet and spoke softly, "Did they tell you I made them promise keep quiet about it?" The question carried a guilty resignation to it, and KC gave his hand a squeeze.

"Yes, they did. Ponch was in such a tough position- trust that you really would be okay or tell Getraer what happened. He made a promise to you that was contrary to what he thought was best, but deferred to your judgment.."

"I know I put him in an impossible situation, but I had to protect them from …" He stopped short and held his breath a moment to control the fresh onslaught of emotions.

Dr. Altman leaned forward. "You can't have one standard of friendship for yourself and yet hold others to a different standard, Jon. Wanting to protect someone is one thing, but to deny them the ability to protect and care for you is not healthy. Your life, your physical and emotional well-being, they are just as important as anyone else's. You show yourself to be 'the dour Ranger' and the protector of the weak, one who doesn't need protection himself, but there you're wrong. We all need someone to support us in our weak times; don't deny your friends the privilege you yourself claim. Let them protect you just as you would protect them."

Jon was losing the battle and he knew it. He crossed his arms over his chest and pressed himself into the bed to fight for control in one last desperate attempt. A very small part of his mind that he visualized as the very far back corner of his head was where his rational side watched everything play out. It gave a gentle urging to give in, but the young Marine who was currently 'in control' (if that term even applied) refused to comply. His older and younger selves knew who would win, but the loser would not give up without one last fight.

It was hard to watch a patient struggle with themself to find release. KC always found this to be one of the top three hardest moments in counseling: when the breakthrough was immanent, the patient was about to find some sort of healing in one painful moment and they suddenly pull back and stuff as much as they can back into the dark depths to protect themselves from pain. She wanted to shake them, to tell them that prolonging it only made it worse, that just taking those last few steps would hurt but be over so fast and they could clean the wound and start to heal. But facing that pain was so overwhelming for them that running away felt easier. And Jon was so close!  _Maybe if I just..._

Danny saw that look on KC's face and shook his head at her. She pursed her lips, leaned forward and made her eyes wide, but he shook his head again. He understood that the downside to her 'Troi-like empathy'  _was_  her empathy. She was professional enough to not step in, but this was someone they both considered a friend, and while the line was crossed the night before, Dr. Wexler made it clear that it had been firmly re-established and was not to be crossed a second time. Well meaning though it was, a single prompt could potentially move the patient forward, but conversely it could shut them down completely.

The memories overwhelmed him and Jon didn't have the strength to fight any longer. He took a shuddering breath and looked at his counselor as the tears began to fall. "I can't do this."

She glanced over at Dr. Altman who gave a small nod and then she took Jon's hand in hers and once again gave it a strong squeeze for several seconds, but she remained silent. Dan moved his chair forward and place his hand on Jon's shoulder. "We're here."

It was the first time he'd felt truly safe in years. He saw the tower once more, and the elf and ranger by his side. He took a deep breath."I had to protect Mitch because he couldn't defend himself. It wasn't even a real village, but how were we supposed to know that? The whole thing exploded in our faces and of the twelve in my unit only four of us survived, but not for long. Diep's men got to Shane and Bob before I could regroup, and then I saw Mitch trapped under the remains of a hut, calling for help."

Danny handed him some tissue and Jon wiped his face. "I was their sergeant, damnit, and I let them down! I was just a snot-nosed kid myself with a new promotion and I got them all killed. And when I saw Quan Diep standing over Mitch, taunting him, knife raised … rage just consumed me and I attacked him."

The emotion poured forth as he finally spoke aloud his most agonizing mortal sin. "Thang khoon, tao sha gnit mhy pbang jing djoy tai! 'You bastard, I'll kill you with my bare hands.' That's what I said, and that's… that's what," Jon gripped KC's hand tighter and spoke through fresh tears, "that's what I did. I Broke his arm and then I took his knife and shoved it in his gut and then slashed his throat… I brutally murdered a man with my own hands." He emphasized each word of the last sentence that ended in a broken sob.

Jon cried for the better part of half an hour as all the emotions he had kept locked up came to the surface. No one knew just how bad it had been and to finally talk about it fifteen years later was painfully soothing. And all the while, Roberts and Altman just sat there in silent support.

-0-

After meeting with Dr. Wexler that evening, it was decided that Jon would be admitted for a full week. As much as he hated to be there, he accepted his fate more readily than the thought of facing Ponch, Steve and Bruce. Dr. Altman gave him two days to make the request to see them himself and when it didn't happen, he told the counselor to bring the officers in the next morning.

Jon was standing by the window looking out over the city when they arrived, and when he turned around and saw them he froze. No one moved or spoke for close to thirty seconds. Bruce and Steve kept their eyes down, not trusting themselves to look at Jon, but Ponch never took his eyes off his partner, waiting for the unspoken signal: a glance, a hand movement, a twitch… anything that he could read in his best friend that told him Jon was okay with him. And when it came, they embraced as brothers.

Tears flowed as the four of them sat and began to talk. The doctor and counselor sat by the door taking notes as the officers talked openly about what happened, creating the first clear picture of the event for everyone. Jon completed the portrait when told them about the attack on his squad and facing Quan Diep. When he finished, no one spoke for a while until Bruce got up and stood in front of Jon.

"On behalf of Mitch and the rest of your squad," he paused a moment and then saluted, "thank you Sarge."

Dan and KC watched through their own tears as Jon slowly stood and returned the salute before giving Bruce a bear hug.

As they were walking back to her car ten minutes later, KC couldn't help but ask about the salute.

"He needed it," Bruce replied with a shrug of his shoulders.. "I just felt compelled to do it."

Steve agreed, "It validated him, I could see it in his eyes."

"He saw his Marines in us and," Ponch paused to swallow back a rush of tears, "they would've done it themselves if they could."

"I think you're right," KC said, "and I couldn't be any prouder of the three of you."

-0-

Recovery came more slowly than the four officers would have liked, especially for Jon. There were group sessions for the four of them and of course individual sessions as well; they all made forward progress with occasional back steps, but Danny and KC assured them that was normal. Six weeks after The Warehouse Incident, Bruce and Steve returned to light duty, which meant mostly station work and 'riding the desk.' Sgt. Getraer made an executive decision and sent them out as a team for a couple of hours a day and by the end of the week they were back on full duty.

Ponch came back the following week, though he fought it tooth and nail. "I don't ride without my partner," he told Getraer and the captain his first day back. "I'll ride the desk as long as it takes for him to return to duty."

Getraer found a loophole in that statement and when the time came, Ponch's first time out was with his  _former_  partner Bruce Nelson. Ponch argued valiantly to no avail and once he was out, he discovered that it was probably the right thing to do.

"Of course it was," Getraer said when they returned. "That's why they pay me the big bucks. To make the right choices."

Each time one of them came back on duty, the officers at the station tried not to make a big deal about it, but they were all family so there was usually some small hoopla made. So when Getraer announced in briefing that after a three month leave Jon was finally given the green light for light duty and would return the next day, the officers were buzzing with excitement.

"We've gotta welcome him back in style," Grossie said and described the decorations he wanted to festoon the briefing room with. "Hey Sarge, where's the tape measure? I need to see how long the chalkboard is."

Bonnie and Jeb squashed those plans flat, stating it would just embarrass Jon and the last thing they wanted to do was to make him uncomfortable.

"How about you just tell him, 'It's been a long three months and we're glad you're back, Baker,'" a familiar voice said from the back of the room.

Every head snapped around to see Officer Jon Baker standing there in full uniform, and Getraer smiled at their shock. This was Jon's idea and the sergeant wanted to do whatever made his officer most comfortable. The room erupted in applause, hugs and kisses and for a moment it was like nothing had ever happened.

But something did happen: four officers suffered tragedy and loss, coming out stronger on the other side. In time they all eventually agreed they were better men, and officers, for the experience, and they valued the deep bond it created in them. Together they had faced the past, and together they would face their future.


End file.
